


Most Fowl

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Amusing Ancient Roman Customs, Bath Houses, Bathing/Washing, Dog training, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Geese, Happy Gay Farmers, Homesteading, M/M, Prompt Fill, Well Technically It's Wolf Training, farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: Training a wolf to be a shepherd might have been easier if his charges weren't spawned in the deepest pits of Tartarus itself.In other words, geese.





	Most Fowl

**Author's Note:**

> All goose characteristics were drawn heavily from personal experience.   
> The honks. They haunt me.

Foul: Dreadful, horrible, unholy

Fowl: A domesticated bird, eg: Water Fowl

Goose: A foul fowl

  
  


“What if he eats them?” 

Marcus stood poised with his hand in the air, almost frozen. He had obviously not considered that possibility. After a moment he shook his head and dropped his hand to his side. “Nonsense. He knows better. Anyway, that’s why I made sure he had an extra meal before we started this.” 

Cub had his shoulders jammed between Marcus’ knees. His ears were pricked forward, certain that his masters were discussing him, and despite the stiffness in his body his tail was stirring the dust on the ground. He looked up to Esca and whined softly. 

“Tch,” Esca buried his fingers into the thick fur behind his ear to give him a reassuring scratch. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you won’t actually eat them.” 

Looking out over the stretch of flattened down heather next to their house where the fowl had laid claim to the property, Marcus tugged on his ear. “Besides-” One particularly large and bloody minded gander turned on them and stretched his wings. He flapped them once with a loud clap of warning and hissed before mock charging in their direction. “I’ve got a sesterce on the goose, if it really comes down to a one on one fight.”

The birds had been a gift from Uncle Aquilla, but now Marcus was beginning to think that they might just have been an excuse to get rid of them, and he understood the note from Sasstica, wishing him joy of them. The chickens Marcus could handle. They just scratched and pecked at the ground and made sure everyone woke in the morning. They would dutifully return to their coop at night, provide them with eggs in the morning, and got broody over their chicks, the mouser’s kittens, Cub, and Marcus’ feet if he stood in one spot too long. 

The geese, though...

The geese were demons straight out of Tartarus. 

They had bullied the draught horses who were now afraid of coming out of their stables and went white around the eyes at the ominous sound of webbed feet patting around. A fence post that had started the big gander was beaten into submission. The goat kids crowded close to their mothers for fear of being ambushed. Only the cats remained unscathed in their speed. No longer were Esca’s nightmares filled with the clash of metal and the cheer of the mob calling for his death. No. Now it was the haunting honk of their gander which woke him in a cold sweat at night. 

He prayed to all the gods that their wolf could hold his own against these fowl beasts. 

They started slow. First, they walked Cub along the path that they wanted him to follow to round up the geese. It was simple, leading from the coops down to the dug out pond. They coaxed him with rewards to keep him on the right path so he didn’t get bored and follow his nose where it might lead. As they walked back and forth, they used a certain whistled tune to help him memorise it. 

Getting him into the geese’s enclosure took longer. The first attempt ended with fur and feathers flying and Cub streaking past the house into the heather field where he hid for the rest of the day. Marcus had to track down his mournful howls to carry him, whimpering pitifully, back to the house at sunset.

“It really isn’t that funny,” Marcus protested finally after yet another failed attempt. Cub’s training had progressed far enough that he could easily corral the chickens to usher them back to their coops if he smelled a fox or other wolf on the wind. He could even handle the female geese, and the goslings marched along obediently behind their mothers. 

The gander was something else entirely. He was a stubborn warrior who wouldn’t be ordered about.

When Esca could finally form words between peals of laughter, he raised a finger. “On the contrary, my heart. It’s even funnier.” 

Cub was all in one piece, otherwise Esca wouldn’t be cackling as hard as he was. He had retreated to the kitchen portion of the house with his tail tucked to let one of the mousers groom his fur and purr him back to himself. 

Still snickering, Esca helped Marcus undress. Between attempts at training their wolf, they had spent the rest of each day working the land. Try as he might to keep an eye on the Centurion, Esca hadn’t been able to get him to rest as often as he should and now he could see that his knee was bothering him. Not as bad as it would in the winter, but just enough to give him the sulks. 

With his tongue clicking off of his teeth, Esca sat Marcus on the bed and crouched in front of him to strip him out of his braccae. “I think tomorrow we will need to go into town to use the pools.” 

It was one of the things Esca missed most about the villa in Calleva. The gymnasium just a short walk away, and the private pool on the grounds itself for warmer days. Their house on the Downs was too small to fit a bath, and the pond down the path was icy cold all year round. 

Tutting again, Esca filled a basin with water from the kettle over their hearth fire. 

“I don’t smell that bad do I?” Marcus asked and tried to discreetly sniff himself. 

“No worse than usual, after a day of work.” Esca crouched back down with his basin and flicked his fingers to gesture for Marcus to remove his shortened tunic. “But you need a proper soak, and a chance to paddle around.” He dipped a towel into the hot water and wrung most of it out.

With a sigh, Marcus sank back against their bedding to allow Esca to wash him. There had been a time that he would have argued against this. He wasn’t an invalid, and Esca wasn’t his slave. But the stubborn Briton plainly enjoyed having Marcus pliable and compliant under his hands as he worked away the stresses of the day from his muscles. Marcus also suspected that it was a point of pride for Esca on those rare occasions they went into town, that his injured soldier moved and looked and smelled as good as any other man. 

Huffing out a breath, Marcus tucked a cushion under his head so he could watch Esca between his knees. His cock twitched in interest for a moment before deciding that they were too tired to do more than appreciate the bathing. 

“While we’re there, perhaps we can ask advice from one of the goose girls about how to deal with… them.” The last word was hushed, as if Marcus didn’t want to risk the birds knowing,  _ somehow _ , that they were being discussed in fear. 

Esca flicked Marcus’ belly with the corner of the cloth. He tossed it into the basin of water and climbed up onto the bed to stretch out beside him. “Or at the very least, we can find a good recipe for stuffed goose.” 

  
  
  


Most of the Romans who lived in the settlement didn’t know that the pair of farmers who came down once a month to visit the markets were the same men who had returned the fabled lost Eagle. They saw the armilla on Marcus’ wrist and knew him to be an honoured soldier and gave him the respect he was due, but would otherwise never believe the truth. They would laugh and wave off the tales of the little Briton who had offered up his life to give Marcus a few extra hours to escape, and of the Roman who had fallen so in love with the land and his slave that he was happily scratching out a life in the rich British soil with Esca at his side.

There was no way that these two men could have done any of what the tales said, it was whispered behind hands when Marcus wasted hard earned coin on British trinkets and rose bushes, and Esca had to be dragged away from trying to pick a fight with anyone who didn’t give his Centurion the proper respect. They simply never would have been able to survive north of the Wall, no matter the rumours. 

“Please don’t threaten the attendants this time,” Marcus murmured to Esca in his language as he sank into the lightly scented water of the baths after the standing ovation tapered off. He would have preferred the water to be warmer, but being able to soak and float was enough to turn him to putty. 

“If they keep their hands off of you, I won’t need to.” Esca slid into the water and paddled around like an otter, twisting and turning before surfacing again with his hair clinging to his face. 

Smiling fondly, Marcus wiped the hair back from Esca’s eyes but was careful to leave it hanging around his ears. While they didn’t know the significance of it, some of the residents knew that Esca had been freed and adopted into Marcus’ family; but it was easier to avoid the tantrums that might be thrown at the thought of a slave in the baths with them, being treated as an equal. It was best for everyone involved if no one noticed the ragged scars on the clipped shell of Esca’s ear. 

A passing attendant, familiar with Esca’s glare, brought them a tray of wine and quickly trotted away to avoid being chased. 

Esca sneered into the cup of wine before taking a sip. It was cheap, sour fare that burned the back of his throat on its way down. “I swear they take the dregs from all of the public houses to make this,” he scowled after gulping several times to try to get the taste from his mouth. 

Alcohol had never appealed to him. While he was a boy, he’d watched his older brothers get fall down drunk on beer and make fools of themselves with the village girls, then groan in agony in the morning with their heads threatening to roll off their shoulders. As a chained gladiator, wine had been used to keep the men obedient and fooled into thinking it was a reward. It only served to dull the senses. Too many skilled fighters had gone into the arena, weaving from the effects of grape or grain, only to be left pleading with the crowd for their lives. 

And it made Marcus think that he could sing. 

“Lo, with thighs of milky white-”

“Stop caterwauling, Marcus.” 

“And a grip that squeezed so tight-”

“I will leave you here if I must.” 

“Julius did conquer Gaul-”

“If the others start to sing, I do not know you.” 

“But flat on his back he was, throughout it all!” 

Esca sank back in the water in defeat when the other bathers raised their cups to salute Marcus, singing the final verse along with him. 

“You only had one cup!” he said, baffled, as he helped Marcus to his feet. It wouldn’t do for him to slip on the tile and drown in front of these strangers. His injured knee was always loose and prone to buckling after a long soak. Esca tucked his shoulder under Marcus’ arm and hauled him up and out of the pool. “And  _ why  _ do they keep applauding us?” 

Whistles and laughter echoed behind them as Esca steered his Centurion into one of the heated, steamy rooms lined with tables. An attendant brought them warmed towels and offered Esca a bottle of oil. 

“Here, play that emperor of yours, and lie down,” he ordered with a snap of his fingers, then pointed at the table. 

“Of course, my Esca.” The wine had left roses on Marcus’ cheeks, which bloomed all the more red when Esca’s voice grew firm and commanding. Ever the dutiful soldier, Marcus stretched out on the massage table after spending several seconds arranging his limbs. He was always eager to obey even the smallest directions. Something Esca was keen to use to his advantage. It made it so much easier to keep the man in one piece if he was doing as he was told. 

“Don’t tense yourself,” Esca murmured in warning before laying his hands on Marcus’ leg, just above the surgical scars. The oil was cool enough to the touch that his skin prickled and he had to force his body to keep still. 

“I really should be doing this for you. You work just as hard as I do.” Marcus groaned and just managed to stop from arching up against Esca’s strong fingers as they worked away a tight knot of muscle in his thigh. His toes curled and his calves flexed until he was able to melt back onto the table. “Harder, I would say.” 

Esca drizzled more oil onto his palms and rubbed them together to warm it. “They will tolerate me joining you in the baths because I help you. They’ll even chat with me, or do business with me.” His tone was deceptively light as he began to work on the other leg. “But Marcus, you know the sort of fits that would be thrown if a Roman, a true Roman, were to be serving as body slave to a Briton. What if one of them were to recognise my scars? Or know me from the games?” 

In Calleva it had been different. The townsfolk had known the pair to be eccentric. Mutters of distaste at the way they acted were usually dismissed with a simple ‘Oh, that’s just their way.’ and a flapped hand. They were still newcomers here on the Downs, having only spent two seasons on their homestead. 

Marcus took Esca’s slick hand in his own and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the inside of his wrist and nodded. “I know. When we’re home, then,” he promised. “I’ll do all of the doting. I’ll even cook dinner.” 

Esca hid a cringe by wiping his cheek against his shoulder. Marcus’ culinary skills were limited to boiling dried meat, and burning bread. A military diet had never left much room for any flavour more complex than salt. 

“How kind,” he finally croaked out and firmly rubbed at Marcus’ shin. With any luck, he would be so relaxed that he would forget his threat of a home cooked meal. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent bargaining with a local stable owner for use of a stallion stud for one of their fastest mares, comparing prices of wool, and admiring a collection of weapons on display from a travelling seller. Out in the open air market, they were far more at ease, and felt confident enough to be demonstrative with one another. They teased and laughed and touched, almost constantly in contact. Marcus kept his strong arm around Esca’s slim shoulders, squeezing him in amusement from time to time when he got his nose in the air about cheap materials or offensive opening offers. There, they were just another pair of faces in the crowd that would pass onto the next stall before anyone could give them much of a thought. 

Marcus dropped a few coins into the hand of a merchant in exchange for a set of phallus charms that he thought would look lovely on Cub’s collar, and might help condition the geese to his presence if they heard him chiming with each step. He lifted them to the sunlight and gave them a shake. 

“If penises truly made a sound like that when they moved, I don’t imagine there would be many of us around,” Esca snorted at the charms. “And what is the Roman fascination with putting wings on them?” 

Before slipping them into his bag, Marcus shook them again and grinned. “They make us laugh, and that scares away any curses that might be sent our way. And for protection from mortals…” he shrugged. “Would you want to be the man with the penis shaped bruise on your head from a punch after attempting to rob someone?” he finished, making Esca laugh outright. 

“It would be rather hard to claim innocence, I admit. Very well, you can put them on Cub.” 

“He is our baby, after all.” 

Esca was too flustered to reply to that, so wasn’t able to argue when Marcus bought a truly gaudy Greek hat and insisted on wearing it to a pub for their midday meal. 

The journey home took longer than the one into town, with Marcus stopping frequently to pick flowers and gather interesting looking stones. Esca took the flowers and wove them together with long grasses to create a crown. With it perched on his head, he looked like some Fae creature who would lead Marcus off on a wild chase. 

Every few steps were interrupted with the need to kiss and caress. The sun was still high in the sky above them, warming both them and the ground that they finally gave in and sank to. With his crown askew, Esca held himself over Marcus, balanced on one hand while the other slid under Marcus’ tunic. 

Marcus gave a rough laugh and moved with Esca’s touch. When no order came for him to lie still and silent, he slipped his own fingers under Esca’s shirt to find the ties of his braccae. He was so familiar with them that he could tug them open without a glance. Just as he knew that when he went searching inside that he should rake his nails through the nest of reddish curls to leave Esca gasping and cursing. 

They had passed the phase of awkward fumbling and timidly testing the waters months ago, and now knew the other’s body as well as their own. Just as Marcus knew which spot to rub over with his thumb, or where to press his knuckles to achieve the most vocal responses, Esca knew that Marcus could climax with a few confidently timed orders in a firm tone and nothing more than a hand tightly gripping his staff. 

It would still take them some practice to finish in tandem, but in the meantime, Esca was more than pleased to watch Marcus thrust and twist under him after he was finished. Strong hands were clutching at the grass he lay on, while one foot searched for traction to give one final, shuddering pump of his hips until Marcus collapsed, Esca’s name a hoarse cry in his throat. 

“How,” Marcus panted out, “do you manage to stay so silent when we are outside?” 

Esca paused in licking his palm clean to consider that. Eventually he shrugged. “I grew up with a brother always within earshot. Then lived in the gladiator’s barracks. It isn’t an easy thing, but I suppose I trained myself to hold back the noises to avoid being mocked in the morning.” 

Pushing himself up on his elbow, Marcus helped Esca to tidy and straighten their clothes. Only when the waves of afterglow began to fade did he realise that they were in plain view of the foot path, and that it was only pure dumb luck that they didn’t currently have a crowd of spectators exchanging wagers. Marcus breathed out a sigh when he saw that their only audience was a handful of leaf shaped butterflies and some industrious little bees. A few of the bees inspected the flowers still clinging to Esca’s hair before leaving them alone. 

Marcus would have happily camped out there for the rest of the day, lazing in the warm summer sun and being pinned to the ground from above by Esca’s strong thighs. But Esca began to feel anxious if he wasn’t focusing on a task or planning something to do. By the time Marcus was considering gathering some grasses to build a pillow, Esca was already pushing off of him and lacing up his clothing, ready to move on. 

Whining only a little, Marcus hauled himself to his feet and brushed leaves and dried grass from his rump. He wound himself around Esca, clinging to him for support in his sleepy, giddy haze. Since Esca didn’t complain or try to shoo him away, Marcus nibbled at the sensitive skin around his ears and down the back of his neck. He could feel Esca’s muscles tense and jump under his shirt when he reached the small spot just above his neck line, and his chest puffed out with pride for a moment before he caught an elbow to the gut. 

“I swear you are like a cat in heat sometimes,” Esca shook his head and linked his arm through Marcus’, partly to keep him close, mostly to keep him from trying to go sniffing around for more reactions. “I don’t know how you can recover so quickly.” 

With a toothy grin, Marcus pressed a firm kiss to the side of Esca’s head. “Because I have you to look at. And to kiss. And to touch. And to-” 

“We’re almost home,” Esca flapped his hands to wave Marcus away. He danced back a few steps to keep out of his reach. The flush in his cheeks and his own grin showed that he was happy to be teased and tempted. But that he wasn’t going to let Marcus win so easily. He had his pride to think of, after all. 

Esca wrapped his hands around the front of Marcus’ shirt to pull him in for a deep kiss. When he pulled away, he let out a whoop before turning on his heels to sprint away. He moved like a deer, light footed and fast, easily clearing any rocks or pits in the path without breaking stride. Before he gave chase, Marcus spared a moment to watch. His back was perfectly straight, he landed on his toes to stay graceful and quick, and his hair tangled in the breeze. 

Marcus was a wolf. Slower, but with a longer stride. He ate up the ground with each pace until he almost able to reach out and catch Esca by the waist. 

Almost, but not quite. 

Esca skidded to a stop in their yard, moving out of the way just in time to miss being tackled to the ground by his Roman. Puffing for air and holding a hand to his side to ease a stitch, Esca bounced from his heels to his toes and back again to keep his muscles from tightening. “I believe that is thirty-six to four, in my favour.” 

“To  _ four _ ?” Marcus panted, doubled over to brace his hands on his knees. 

“I told you, we aren’t counting the fifth because we were interrupted part way home.”  

Marcus mumbled wordlessly and flicked his hand in Esca’s direction. “I still have you beat in wrestling,” he puffed out before managing to stand straight with a wince. “What are you looking at?” he asked, noticing that Esca’s focus was on something in the distance. 

“Look,” Esca took hold of Marcus’ chin and turned his head to show what had gotten his attention. 

On the other side of the geese’s paddock, Cub was crouched low to the ground staring intently at their gander. His ears were pricked forward and his tail just barely stirring the grass behind him. 

The goose, in stark contrast was stretching his neck and spreading his wings as wide as he could to display his size. For once though, he wasn’t charging and hissing before trying to attack Cub. The pair were clearly sizing one another up. 

Cub inched forward on his belly. 

The Goose of Tartarus clapped his wings together in warning. 

“Lugh protect us, he’s going to kill him!” Esca whispered harshly. It was entirely unclear which animal he had meant. 

“No, wait,” Marcus stopped him from dashing forward with a hand on his chest. “Cub has it under control.” He nodded his chin toward the scene. 

Rather than lunging forward, Cub twisted under the wings and darted behind the goose. Before the bird could waddle around to meet him on this new front, Cub took a nip out of his tail feathers. 

The unholy honk of dismay was almost drowned out by Esca’s cheer. 

Confused and alarmed, the goose stuck his neck straight out and his wings to the side for speed to try to get away from his opponent. Cub stood back until the bird slowed to a halt, then repeated the maneuver to get him moving again. He didn’t let up until the gander was reunited with his flock in the pond. The females crowded around to comfort him while Cub pranced across the field to meet his masters. 

White feathers stuck out from the fur around his ears like military laurels. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear Sergeisilence on tumblr. Thanks so much for your patience!


End file.
